Review that Story!
by Mariette Susan
Summary: Browse-Games-Pokemon. Three simple clicks can bring a poor and unassuming reader into a world of slight disappointment and awkward silence. While nothing in this story offers a solution, it does manage to criticize and satirize every poorly made story under the sun. With the burning, passionate intensity for real writing that compares to the heat of mentioned celestial object.
1. Heartbeat

**Statistics:**

**Number of stories with 'journey' or 'adventure' in the TITLE: 3,016**

**Number of stories about 'school' or 'academy': 1412**

**Number of stories surrounding the relation'ship' of 'ash' and 'gary':1057**

**Number of stories with an eevee or its evolved forms as a leading character: 952**

**Number of stories with N as lead role: 847**

**Number of stories involving aura or lucario: 790**

**Yet the author is sure that this is only the tip of the real cliché iceberg. Many will believe this is unfair, because every writer should have every chance to spin their own perspective on a popular subject. One doesn't see an entire genre or subject die from a single story, no? But when you have summaries like:**

**[it is about how Lucario was born with humans, and how they react.]**

**Is it so surprising that at least one person would get annoyed enough to spend five minutes researching statistics? Or ask that people actually try to be a little unique or interesting? Or dedicate time to criticizing these sorts of stories? Maybe it all comes down to the desire to see some real writing, around here. **

**And god fucking damn, is that, apparently, ever the tall order to place. **

**[REVIEW THAT STORY]**

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**Heartbeat, by Iseriouslyloveanime:**

Remember this, reader:

[Italic words means May is in a deep dream].

As opposed to a shallow dream. But perhaps the adjective foreshadows that the following is considered dreaming deeply and lucidly, in a realm of true subconscious epiphany and recollection.

[_2012…_

_9 years ago…_

_The first time I saw him… That was July 10.]_

Caught in a vivid whirlwind of emotions that threatens to tear her apart, coerces her to reconsider her entire being... May responds by giving an extremely well placed timeline. But this turns out to be the emotional dabbling one was expecting as she utilizes it as a powerful motif in order to represent her-

[_9 years ago… It's such a long time…]_

Opinion that nine years is, in fact, a _very_ long time. As for the other subject matter, the author would like to offer a dream of her own as comparison. They are eerily similar:

_Four score and seven seconds ago, I went to the store...  
And I looked at the clerk...  
I was buying some watermelon,  
It was green...  
so green...  
Four score and seven seconds... what a long time.  
Four score and seven seconds later  
I recount what I did at the grocery store. _

Deep dreaming is also known as 'Quickly creating an exposition of the events in your life randomly and without thorough invitation'.

Hark! Someone calls her Ms. Maple and she finally wakes up. Students are snickering away around her, and someone just called her name, and this allows her to draw the conclusion that

[ I realized that someone is looking at me.]

Fantastic. One later finds that this deductive reasoning has grown from her rigorous education. As shown by the teacher's demand to finish

[Activity 4 on page 195-197. answer it on a piece of paper.]

When someone says your name someone might be looking at you. Worksheets are best done on a piece of paper. But instead of listening to the teacher the students

[Then the students dose off and went to other class as well.]

Italic words means students are in a deep dream. The teacher apparently gives up on keeping its students awake, or else is fooled because they are up and walking to their other classes. After everyone does that, May graciously and mercifully gives the reader an introduction.

[ I'm 19, turning 20 next year]  
[you have to submit your requirements on time before the said time.]  
[find a job and start working.]

And that's enough character development. She is taking tautology at 'Arceus College', which the author presumes is like the Heald College of the pokemon world. A blue haired girl is waiting for May outside of the classroom. The author of this piece begins to intelligently interlace a new concept: May's total inadequacy and incapability to narrate a story. Other than various tense shifts and total disregard of time and space, this sums up the beginning of her descent into confusion quite well:

[Oh, and did I mention that she is the captain of the cheerleading squad.]

No. May has only given a sentence (disregarding the fact that Dawn has blue hair is quickly mentioned) on Dawn and is already asking for cues. The author emphasizes; it can be extremely easy to lose track of your descriptions after talking about the subject for five seconds. Oh and did I mention that the author emphasizes; It can be extremely easy to lose track of your descriptions after talking about the subject for five seconds?

[And you're like sleeping in front of the teacher.]

The twist is that May never woke up, and is still sleeping in front of the teacher, it appears. Oh, wait, never mind that last part; just more tense confusion. And then Dawn foolishly says

[to see you back there but then I found out that you're sleeping.]

She wasn't sleeping, you tool, she was _deeply dreaming._ Someone needs to take a cue from the font. Also this introduces the plot element that Dawn has a rare ophthalmic condition that makes it impossible to see sleeping people. In order to accommodate for this, Dawn is forced to take a picture with her smart phone. But May is still frustrated from her flounder on the cheerleading thing and threatens,

[Don't you dare see that to Ash!]

It looks like she is as confused now as she was back then. Dawn gracefully doesn't see that to Ash and the boy responds

[You girls are weird.]

Startlingly, this is pretty much in-character, but then in a flash the reader is hammered with

[I want to hang out with you, girls.]

The suspense of whether Ash is his ignorant canonical self or a smooth-talking pimp tears this author apart. Unless it is trult intended to make Ash a player, which the first quote should then be

_You gal's funky as hell. I want to hang out with you, girls._

See how it goes together? 'Dat Ash', right there. They prattle for a bit longer and exposition things. Misty works in the newspaper department as an editor. Because the only thing one can possibly think of when they think 'college-level newspaper editor' is a redhead in overalls, y'all. But then the story takes a tragic turn to remind us of May's incompetency:

[The parking lot is filled with cars.]

The author recommends you give a small golf clap for the girl and slowly walk away.

[Pink is my favorite color and it is small just like a size of a Mini Cooper.]

Ability to realistically define colors is lost. Maybe this should be in italics, because it really does seem like a _deep dream_ sort of thing. Finally,

[ I got the keys to start the engine]

And they go to May's house. And that's that.

Overall, this is a very complex story. What with the eye diseases, redefinition of _deep dreaming_, Ash's lewd shift, May's tautological narration, and other things... a commendation is in order. Not many people can manage to write about school in such a realistic way. Good. Game. Ten out of ten. Oh did I mention that this is a story about pokemon?

**You want the D?**

**The 'D'isclaimer?!**

**Don't take this seriously is the author's advice. The review section to this story, and the private message inbox of one 'Mariette Susan' are readily available for flame, however. **


	2. Was I That Blind All This Time?

**DEPRESSING STATISTIC OF THE CHAPTER**

**-There are only eighteen stories about farting, but sixteen are from the same person-**

**[Review that Story]**

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**Was I That Blind All This Time? By kuronari**

The summary:

[Green never knew Red liked him. Green wanted to confess his 'love' to Blue. Despite that , Red still supported him from behind. Rated T for sad stuff , romance and maybe angst. Might be rated M in the future. Disclaimer : I do not own Pokemon. Warning - Slow Storyline .. Please bare with me.]

Colors have never been so romantically involved. Anyway, after this little gem

[Red still supported him from behind]

The author is fairly sure that an M rating may already be in order. Other than that, this obviously needs a teen rating because: sad things? One needs to have a ton of emotional maturity to deal with sad things. Also, the writer thankfully warns us about the 'slow storyline'. A check on how slow it really is may be in order, at the end of this review. So! Beginning with the first line:

[Red couldn't speak.]

I'm pretty sure this means he is mute, based on the next line,

[He was born this way and Green never mind that.]

So like Lady Gaga, Red was born that way. But the author recommends that the reader think about this for a moment. It should be slightly obvious that someone who is born cannot speak at first. They're a baby who just got ejected from the birthing port. No one _isn't_ born that way, talking and blabbering about.

[Both of them were the best of friends]

As opposed to only one of them being the best of friends. Introduce: quick laundry list of activities best friends do:

[hanging out , playing and even doing sleepovers together.]

**EVEN SLEEPOVERS?!**

The author would like to apologize for that outburst. Verily the writer has introduced a shocking plot element. Two friends... sleeping in the same house. This couldn't be a reference to their blatant lack of sexual restrictions towards each other, could it? A representation of how close they already are to just getting in the sack? A little too early, writer! No one is supposed to know they are gay for each other yet.

[Green never minded anything , he was already used to everything.]

Such a brave soul, truly. The author remembers the first time she was asked to a sleepover.

_Hey wanna sleep over at my house?_

_Oh fuck! Slow down tiger, you're taking it way too far! That's like, sleeping in a different place next to somebody you know. Jesus Christ, you fucking loon!_

Obviously the relationship between author and her friend is sorely lacking compared to Red and Green's own friendship. Moving on to the next single break,

[Now Red is 18 , Green being 18 as well.]

The way this is put makes it seem like 'being 18' was a choice for Green. As if he did it only because Red was doing it. Or maybe, he ascends in age like a Saiyan ascends in power levels. And the reader will soon be greeted with Green saying

_This isn't even my final form! I can be nineteen as well! Or even twenty!_

Also, numbers under one hundred must be written out. Someone got a little _La-aa-zy! _They live in an apartment together and that's just grandiloquently fantastical. Then the reader is blessed with insight on the question of communication,

[ They communicated using sign language since Red couldn't speak.]

Okay, then. The author doesn't know what she was expecting. This must hold some value beyond the pointless iteration of the obvious. Maybe after the three or four lines of narration, the writer assumes that the reader has forgotten everything and needs to be reminded that Red is a mute. But wait! Disaster strikes the mute Red's heart!

[Green decided to finally confess his love to Blue , Silver's not related in blood sister.]

O what cruel bondage we wrestle with! Wherefore? _Wherefore art thou not related in blood sister? _The author, in truth, has no idea what the intention of the second clause is, but is sure that it excuses some canonical aspect of the manga. Moving on,

[Green had always use to call her 'annoying women' due to the fact that she was 'annoying']

Thanks for clearing that up, kuronari. It was the general assumption on this side that Green called her that because she was a fusion of multiple women. That's the only reason plausible for calling her the plural for the word 'woman', that could be found.

[Red secretly liked Green but never had the chance or courage to confess.]

Aw. Could his muteness be the source of the problem? Even if he built up the courage, poor Red was at a loss; there is no sign that says 'I'm gay for you, Green'. Except for a few pelvic thrusts and a wink. But that would be far too emotionally invested for these extremely developed characters. So when this mute kid finally finds out about Green's intentions, he feels a little like this,

[ his heart was on the verge of shattering into something like glass.]

So, basically, it will explode into a bloody mess and then reform into a glass-like material.

[Transparent and easily broken.]

Just in case the reader doesn't know what glass is like. The author had to check a window in order to remind herself. This will definitely save everyone's time.

[Green didn't know anything about Red's crush on him and smiled sheepishly at him , happy deep down inside that Red was supporting him.]

Now, stop right there. This was previously a recollection of past events, but now Green is smiling sheepishly at him. Apparently the exposition needs to stop and the story/shippings need to begin. As always.

[Green mustered up all of his courage as he walked out of their apartment and made his way to Blue's.]

Nothing particularly foolish about this line, but as a general tip for entertainment: replace the word 'mustered' with 'mustard' and any piece of writing becomes much better. Mustarding up courage is a great analogy. Green stands in front of Blue's apartment, ready to go and get some tail when all of a sudden,

[He was about to knock the door but than something suddenly flashed in his mind and hit him mentally.]

_You were struck by,_

_You were hit by,_

_The fact that you want the D._

What? That's what happens! His guts agree.

[His guts were telling him to turn back , his guts were trying to tell Green that he didn't like Blue affectionally.]

_"Go back!" Shouted his pancreas._

_"You are not affectionately attracted to this woman!" His liver yelled._

_"Yeah!" Agreed his small intestines._

_"I need some man loving!" Roared his testes._

Love isn't very complex in the pokemon world so Green makes a total 180 and leaves. This ain't no Wuthering Heights, reader.

[But If Green didn't like Blue , Who else was left among the kanto trio ?]

The author would like to break the slightly professional, no-ranting-included review with a

Shippings are (ninety nine percent of the time) fucking retarded! Why in the fucking world does he have to go and love someone from the Kanto trio? Jesus flipping shitting christ, has the dumbass never heard of Eharmony? Any other dating site? Is there a rule in the pokemon world that you can only love other dexholders who are from the same region? _Why do you write this crap, people?_ Holy hell...

Besides that, this is a fairly idiotic way to find out who you love. Deductive reasoning is not exactly the most romantic way to determine your soul mate.

Oh, and about that plot not moving along quickly. Already, half of the events in the summary have passed by. So much for that, then.

Overall, this story is an excellent demonstration of the typical shipping story. It has most of the elements, which range from overly emotional and pseudo-intelligent prose to idiotic constraints on who the characters can interact with. I rate it a Roman number IV out of Lebron James.

**[End of Review]**


	3. The Coffee Shop

**The author has been found out for the horrible statistician she is. Don't trust her. Nevertheless, on with the show.**

**-DEPRESSING STATISTIC OF THE CHAPTER-**

** Number of writers that acknowledge how bad their summaries are (found by searching 'bad summary' and 'suck summary' respectively): 532 (number of writers likely to improve their bad summary: Zero. Point. Zero)-**

**[Review that Story!]**

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**The Coffee Shop by daffodil431**

Like any good adventure through the world of terrible writing should begin, the short but repugnant summary arises.

[All Ruby ever really wanted to do was somehow pass his sophomore year of college. Along the way, he's got to hold his job at the coffee shop, try not to flunk his classes, keep his friends from killing each other and, on occasion, keep HIMSELF from killing said friends. Hey, nobody said college was easy.]

Normally the author isn't as forthcoming with calling something terrible, but be assured; it is wholly justified. But do not attribute her crassness to the dull, innocent summary. Which, other than the possible psychopathic murderer plot it could be alluding to, seems oddly out of place. Wouldn't it be a more appropriate summary of what a person in a pokemon world would be doing _before_ they went out on an adventure? Oh, but that's exactly it, reader; that's hitting the nail on the head, sadly. Because,

[**AN: Right, so this is a bit weird. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE THE POKEMON WORLD and all the pokemon and everything that comes with it. Regardless, this story's kind of like, they're all living in our world. So it's like the Dexholder's personalities, but they're not like trainers. They're college students.]**

The author could quite literally have a field day with this. She is physically capable of setting up a track meet, charging entrance fees, and using the proceeds to get the writer's miserable crap off the internet. _Yikes. _This is a review, however, of the story- not of the terrible premise it is set upon. Exploring is good, fan fiction'ers out there arguing that point right now. But this, _this... _every second of talking about is a pitfall that leads to an unfunny and pointless rant that won't change anything. The author would love to take the readers out onto a good track and enjoy some fun in the sun throwing javelins and shit. But it isn't happening. First line of the story is,

Hold up a minute, because daffodil is not done pollinating his pre-story rubbish all over the page. There lies a list that has the sole purpose of informing the reader what majors the characters are taking. Here it is:

[**Red- Mechanical Engineering Major**  
**Green- Physics Major**  
**Blue- Statistics Major**  
**Yellow- Pre-med**  
**Gold- Business Major**  
**Silver- Computer Science Major**  
**Crystal- Biology, Neuroscience, Philosophy**  
**Ruby- Mathematics Major**  
**Sapphire- Animal Science major**  
**Emerald-Electrical Engineering]**

Interlacing this in the narrative is just too _ha-aa-rd. _Then, just above this mess of details,

[**No, no, don't leave, I promise it's good!]**

The author will be the judge of that. First line:

["Have a nice day," Ruby said dryly as the customer turned away without a backward glance.]

If one gives a backward glance while turning away, that would make them look to where they are turning. So, basically, the customer is pulling off some exorcist shit. But for the sake of not having anything _interesting_ tainting this story, the reader is advised to assume that the writer meant he didn't look back while walking away. Someone criticizes Ruby's dry tone.

["Wow, Rubes, don't be too nice to them," a voice from behind him said sarcastically, "People might think you're a pushover."]

A voice. This is a coffee shop, right? It's probably safe to say that whoever is behind him has a tangible bipedal body. Especially since, one knows, daffodil decided to remove _fire fucking breathing anteaters _from his story. But I dangerously digress. Or maybe the writer has it right, because the voice belongs to the color blue, as he notices from twirling around to face the mysterious being.

[ Blue may have been forced to wear the standard employee uniform, but she made up for it by being overly ostentatious.]

os·ten·ta·tious  
Characterized by vulgar or pretentious display. Makes sense. One has to wonder what she does to retain her showy attitude...

[She wore bright yellow tights under a dark purple skirt. Her perfectly manicured nails were painted a bright orange color, and contrasted wonderfully with her striking, hot pink sweater. She had her long red hair pushed back with a bright orange headband, and she finished her outfit off with a pair of long, dangling earrings]

Apparently, by simply not wearing the fucking thing. Christ, what was everyone expecting? Also: read this in the voice of 'gay fashion designer'. Don't pretend like you don't know what the 'gay fashion designer' voice is. Just do it. Ruby descants on the rude behavior of the exorcist,

[discourteous, uncouth head!"]

Thesaurus alert. Reading-shakespeare-in-school alert. Vocab-list-twelve alert. No one speaks like that- at least, not in college. The write has exposed his overly-complex, researched style like a heated woman letting loose two giants boobs into the breeze. Blast that fishmongering whippersnapper writer and his grandiloquent terminology! Although this may just be how the character himself speaks. No quick research has yielded results that prove this.

[ "You pulling a stunt like that could have gotten me that pay raise."]

...

[Ruby and Blue watched curiously as she made her way over to them and dropped her books on the counter tiredly.]

...

[Ruby shrugged. "So, what are you doing with all these books, Crys?" he asked her, helping her to carry them into the back room.]

...

["This," she gestured to her books, "This is what you get when you decide to complete a triple major."]

...

Is anyone else terribly fucking bored? The author could go back and word-smith the quotes, or create some double entendres from the piece... but it just doesn't seem like it is worth it. Sorry, readers, but this idea is just ridiculous. This might be the end of this review, because the author does not have the patience nor willpower to sift through and criticize the ocean of colors and rocks for decent mock-able material. The entire thing is like a giant mental Guitar Hero sequence, where the reader must successfully hit and remember petty details and names as they fly across their computer screen. Perhaps, just maybe, if someone had a firm grasp of these characters from the get-go, they'd enjoy this. But this is like memorizing the back story of every dynasty warrior character.

Fuck! What does one want from this poor author? They aren't a godsend, who can simply conjure the energy to read what is perhaps the most boring story in recent fan fiction history! The author is a hu_-uu-man! _What does one say about a bunch of characters created for a children's franchise ganging together in a coffee shop and trying to be witty? Nothing happens in this version, and it's not like...

Wait...

She can, if she really wanted to.

Fine. The readers want entertainment? _Here it is:_

* * *

**THE ALTERNATIVE TELLING OF THE LONG (AND QUITE SIMPLY BORING) TALE OF MULTIPLE YOUNG ADULTS AT THE COFFEE SHOPPE**

Context:

**Three college students sit about in a coffee shop, chatting about their drawl college lives. Read the actual story until this point:**

["This," she gestured to her books, "This is what you get when you decide to complete a triple major." She sighed and started tying her apron around her, when she seemed to suddenly remember something and whirled around. "By the way," she spat angrily, "Tell that _roommate_ of yours that, if he even _thinks_ about talking to me again, I will rip out his intestines and feed them to the monkeys we've got in the lab." Without waiting for an answer, she spun around and stalked towards the back of the store, Ruby staring after her wide-eyed.]

**Switch tabs immediately after, and read this alternative chain of events, that drastically undermines the tedious musings of these little brats. **

Without waiting for an answer, she spun around and stalked towards the back of the store with Ruby's stare glued to her back. Crystal's hand laced supple patterns on the slippery metal knob of the door as she attempted to wrench it open. Again and again her terse fingers slipped in that brief period of three, maybe four seconds- curses and muttering sparked naturally from the embarrassing attempt.

Yet the woman was suddenly reeling on the floor, and in instants comparable to those mentioned, raised her arms from their shrugged, lowered position and into a painfully slow recoil. The shadows that softly painted the cherry-wood of the coffee shop, which came from her arms, rose like puppets. The dark figures came upon the room like steam; a rising figure of the dark awoke at unknowing tribute as Crystal reached startled hands higher into the sealed sky as if in prayer. A scream reverberated through her extended mouth and popped the bubble of lagging time; resting in her stomach laid the sharp, bristling turn-piece of the round knob. Left behind was only a trickle of blood, yet the ornate knob stood erect as if a part of the body.

Green tendrils danced through the now empty space, where the knob had been. A devil, come to collect three students' souls! Time provided no solace for the other two employees as they saw this appendage wrap about the woman's exposed, vibrating neck (a few hertz lower and the nearby, recently cleaned dishes would be irreparably shattered by her scream, as shattered as the bones in her neck and spine as the creature behind the door jerked violently). If time had played the role of inducing reverie, and surprise that of a daydream, both were gone the instant the overworked college student hit the ground, deceased from her gruesomely wrought injuries.

Where had the good humored banter gone? In ten seconds, lives were made inconsequential to the two. Shocked out of them were the emotions and reactions of the typical frightened human. Their eyes blanked and widened like a fish's would and they flopped callously away from the door. Without the tone to back up the frantic cry, Ruby cried to the one at his side,

"Monster!"

In case the witty girl searched for an explanation to the senseless deed of the green reaper. Perhaps she was thinking of a fabulous rejoinder for the entire spectacle, now. Or maybe how well a metal knob would look fashion-wise, if Blue could only pierce one painlessly through her own stomach. If only it had been Blue who died; Crystal was taking philosophy and could have explained away the confusion for Ruby.

But wishes of utmost morbidity soon granted worse predicaments; Blue screamed and tugged at her beautiful pink sweater. Plumes of flame covered her, and she thrashed about the small tables and chairs. She was so bright... for the last few seconds of her life, Blue was truly ostentatious. Ruby expected the flaming figure to fall to ashes, but instead the body only dropped, the cracking jaw under the melting skin giving final, complementary gasps against the enemy- air deprivation. Unlike the demon behind the door, Ruby realized that this one had exposed itself.

It stood at a high three feet to a short four feet tall, and looked quite like an anteater. The eyes were so sentient. The legs upright and maturely balanced. Tail twisting and writhing as the flames ceased to spew from its thin, lash-like tail. All details vouched for its intelligence and lethal capabilities. Ruby found it shocking to the core that these foul deeds had been so maliciously premeditated. The young clerk dropped to his knees quickly under the creature. He asked,

"What are you?"

The eyes softened, and for a sickening moment before the tail turned towards Ruby, he felt something. That, deep down, perhaps this was a creature of beauty. Unjustly maligned by some god above them both, who took its responsibility poorly and unjustly forced these beings to an isolated world. As this was simply revenge, and Ruby's death simply a start to a higher revolution, then... Ruby found the idea of the beast strangely alluring and calming in his final moments. As the coffee shop and his own skin sparked, and the green vines gripped his leg and dragged him towards the door, only subjunctive images of friendship with his monstrous killers arose in his mind.

Yet soon his mind was melted, burnt and broken under the consequences of ignorance.

**FIN**

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The write should promptly replace whatever number of boring words he already has with this piece. The author offers her apologies for becoming so oddly distracted, but this was the only way to properly express her dissatisfaction.

Overall, avoid this story like the plague. Unless, of course, one is willing to do all of the imagining and thinking for the boring writer. To that the author has to say:

_Enjoy your fucking fashion and college, bro. I'll be playing with my motherfucking flame dragon. _

This story gets a yawn out of blah.

**[End]**


	4. What is Harley doing in the Unova Region

**-DEPRESSING STATISTIC OF THE CHAPTER-**

**-Number of stories with the term 'please read' in them: one thousand two hundred and twenty fucking seven (that's in the pokemon section alone, the author shits you not)-**

**[Review that Story!]**

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What's on the menu today? Hopefully not a The Coffee Shop 2.0. Because that was just embarrassing. Sifting through the browse section... oh. Oh yes.

[Harley tries to do to the Unova region to escape May and find men, but May won't let him go without her. Stuff happens. Warning: Slight contestshipping, slight festival shipping, and some Almost Cookieshipping, almost, and then Harley meets a guy.]

HarleyXUnova?! Imagine those supple fingers, tracing over the gargantuan crests and troughs of the silky smooth Unovan valleys. Yes, conjure an image of the pleasing such a giant island, 2,000,000 years old, climax coming in the form of a white, foamy tidal wave. Drown in pleasure, literally. Do to the Unova, friends, do to the Unova.

**What is Harley doing in the Unova region? By Dragonbuttero'PKMN**

Well the summary answered that question, so the author guesses that her work is done. But for the sake of fulfilling passive-aggressive tendencies, the author shall make parley with this potentially terrible piece. Also, it is her opinion that the title **What is Harley doing _to _the Unova region? **Would be so much better. It is a preconceived fact that the act of making love to an entire landmass will have more emotional intensity than whatever crap goes on in this story. Digression. An introduction is in order and the first line fills the position with a,

[We now join Soledad and Shuu… er… I mean Drew as they watch Haruka-chan… I mean May as she battles it out with Harley. Soledad is staring faithfully at the screen and Drew is just watching.]

So basically not even the writer of the piece knows where this is going. Or maybe this is a foreshadowing/ warning about the writer's desperate struggle with Type Two Weaboo. Drew says something to Soledad, who is subserviently watching the screen, according to the word choice.

[Drew: You know Soledad; I never understood why you like Harley so much.]

Hey! Chat based stories are against the rules, writer! How the hell does this kind of stuff happens when you have to agree to the terms every week? Everything one needs to know about the rules are in fine print. Is it really that hard to understand the following simple set of rules?

**Entries not allowed:**

**Non-stories: lists, bloopers, polls, previews, challenges, author notes, and etc.****One or two liners.****MST: comments inserted in between the flow of a copied story.****Stories with non-historical and non-fictional characters: actors, musicians, and etc.****Any form of interactive entry: choose your adventure, second person/you based, Q&As, and etc.****Chat/script format and keyboard dialogue based entries.**

This is a conspicuous violation and a vicious abuse of the creators of this site-

**MST: comments inserted in between the flow of a copied story.**

The author would to redact her previous criticisms. That semicolon is obnoxiously immune to criticism, since one can place those wherever they want. Moving forward:

[Soledad: Well, he's just so unique compared to other guys.

She said that with a smile.]

Thanks. The author was about to tell the reader how Soledad's face while saying this kind of resembles Jim Carry after he puts on the mask. But now that everyone knows it was said with a smile, we can rest a little easier. Thank the lord.

[Drew: Yeah… but he's just so… feminine. And he has those tendencies to flirt with guys.

Soledad: Tendencies?

Drew: You know what I mean.

Soledad: ...so what if he's a little gay? And I've seen him flirt with girls too before.]

Hot damn is Soledad desperate- almost as much as the writer probably is. Also, Drew turns out be a homophobe, barely restraining his urge to attribute those 'tendencies' to genetic mutations. Drew knows that Harley just can't help being a little gay, and still tries (but not very hard) to support the obviously confused man whose D.N.A's sanctity was pilfered by the fag gene. O, cruelty!

[Drew: Yeah... the guy is pretty weird like that. Listen Soledad, I just don't want you to end up with a guy like that.

By the time Drew was done talking Soledad had stopped listening and started watching the screen again.

Drew: Typical... I still can't believe he beat you and me.]

Tautology seems to be a powerful motif in these and other stories already reviewed in this story. It is irresistibly sensational, the way the writer points out that when people are done talking, the person they are talking to stops listening and goes back to what they are doing. Genius. Drew doesn't seem to get it, however, because he can't believe the event he called typical just two seconds ago. The language of this piece is quite annoying, on a more serious note. 'like that' is repeated twice in a single line. No purpose for this, really. There are other terms one can use for this, really.

[Harley was a very feminine man with a figure that some people would call "androgynous". He trained (or coached, as the Latin Americans say) Pokémon; all of them which mysteriously shared some sort of characteristic with him. The guy also dressed like his lead Pokémon: Cacturne (the Japanese call that Pokémon Noctus instead). Harley was currently fighting against May in the Johto Pokémon Grand Festival. The fight looked pretty close, looking like any could win, but May pulled off a combination that defeated Harley's Pokémon.]

In case the 'oh wow he is really feminine' and 'he's a little gay' wasn't enough to tip the reader off, we have a bit more on just how much Harley trips the fag-o-scale. Interwoven into this description the writer tried so desperately on are some very pointless cultural tidbits. For one, trained and coached mean the same thing and even if they don't: why the heck would the writer interrupt his own story just to point this out? Type Two Weaboo strikes again when the afflicted decides that offering the Japanese name to Harley's pokemon is _so important/ kawaii/ Ginga Nagareboshi Gin. _Ignore that last term if it isn't Japanese. And:

[looking like any could win]

Even those not participating? Thanks for the amazing narrative on the battle. Groundbreaking.

[Harley: Oh (then he said the S word)!]

Caiyou is less of a pussy than this writer. Seriously- just fucking say the shitting ass cuss word, wanker writer pussy hoe! The author is fairly sure when you are writing a fan fiction about a man going to a new region (and hopefully having intercourse with said region) and hunting for men, it is okay to say shit every now and again.

[May: That's what you get for being a LOSER!]

Read: things people at school say to the writer.

[After the battle, Harley and May walk back to... whatever that backstage is called.]

For future reference, the backstage is called... the backstage. Why does this writer know about specific alternations in cultural colloquialisms/ word use yet doesn't know that the backstage can be referred to by its synonym, 'offstage'? It penetrates the very heart to think that this up and coming writer could have forgotten such a pertinent and well-known fact.

[Captain Obvious: Well Harley, you lost to May again.]

Duh. The 'Caption Obvious' is a personal touch.

[Drew knows that Harley gets mad after a contest, unless he wins because then the guy gets happy, but five minutes later he gets bored and moves on. Still, Drew decided to act naïve to mess with Harley.  
Drew: Oh my! Harley! How could you use such nasty language! And I thought you were good!]

If someone loses at something they get upset, and if they win they are happy. Eventually they forget about it and stop feeling either happy or sad. The homophobe decides to abuse his poor debilitated meat-lover friend by abusing these odd things he keeps having after a contest called 'emotions'. Although not very present, the very abstract idea of them existing is enough to drive Drew to pester Harley. Oh- the cuss word Drew talks of isn't the 'shit' Harley said. It's,

[Harley: Shut up Drew]

Might as well be written as

_Harley: (He says the S word followed by the U word) Drew. _

For continuity.

[They continued to argue about behaving and whatever]

Proof that the writer finally accepts that this piece is just one big joke. Even it wants to get this over with.

[Then May, who was just laughing her ass off listening to Drew mess with Harley, realized that she had to get on stage again. She still had to battle one more person before she could get the ribbon cup. She had to battle none other than The Penguin, who was one of batman's archenemies.]

Uh.

[The Penguin, who was one of batman's archenemies.]

**ALERT: DON'T FALL VICTIM TO THIS 'ERMAGERD SO RANDUMB' COMMENT PLACED ABOVE.**

Seriously though, reader; don't enable this kind of behavior by acting surprised by it. Humor, as a general definition, is derived from the meeting of two unlikely circumstances or events. It is then presented in a fairly shocking way, often through media (if the writer gets a fun fact on words, so does this author. Media is actually the plural of medium. _Knowing is half the battle) _already found to be the source of humor. The above batman crap is just a shitty attempt to spark humor like a chain-smoker trying to spark up his trusty lighter so he can fuck up his teeth some more.

[May: See you later!

Harley: Where are you off to?

May: I still have one more loser to battle! Then the ribbon cup will be mine!]

Apparently, Harley doesn't even know how the system works.

[Drew: Good-Bye May! Mwah!

The Mwah was the sound of drew blowing a kiss to May.]

Fuck this writer. Something about this individual passage pisses the author off. Ugh!

The Ugh was the sound of the author expressing her frustration.

[Harley: Drew-kun! Stop copying me!

Drew: Copy you? Why I wouldn't DARE to!]

Type Two Weaboo hits again. Caps lock for emphasis instead of italics. Did the writer mention that Harley is a little gay?

[Harley: You just blew a kiss at May! **I **blow kisses all the time!]

Thanks for clarifying.

[Drew: You aren't the only one who can blow kisses honey.]

Did the writer mention that Drew is apparently in the closet?

[Then Drew blew a kiss at Harley.

Harley: Okay that's it Drew! You're **DEAD**!]

If only something like that could happen. The author would create another piece of mutilation and death, but that gag needs to cool off for a bit- writing is hard!

As this writer has probably found out by now. Use of the chat system (which the author refuses to comment on, for shown reasons) demonstrates incapability to write flowing narrative. Out-of-place cultural references detract from the writing even further, providing insight in all the wrong places, when it could instead be turned on more important features like the battle. Pointing out of the obvious in order to provide density to the flimsy piece. Pointing out of the obvious because this entire thing is obviously spur-of-the-moment or however you say it. Apparently, the writer would fucking know.

Overall, the writer is either lazy or does not have the creativity to develop the necessary syntax to have a logical, cohesive story. All they desire is to use the words as a disgusting rape-tool that allows them to enter their own head, going deep into reveries of feminine men and other such things.

In truth though, a three way between Harley, Drew, and Unova seems amazing. The author is not aroused by it, per se, but to see it would be nice- just as an experimental thing. Perhaps this will be her first real piece on this site. The author rates this story a disappointing out of (then she said the C word).

[**END]**


	5. Teardrops on my Guitar

**-Depressing statistic of the chapter-**

**-Percent of K-T pokemon stories that have romance as one of their genres: 43.3 percent. Coughdesperatecough-**

**A brief note: From now on, there will be no more slips in the strictly third person format of these reviews. This means that from now on, there will be three recurring terms:**

**The Author: Mariette Susan. Rich and beautiful.  
The Writer: Whatever fuckwit who decided to get Mariette's panties in a bunch.  
The Reader: Take a minute and think about it. **

**[Review that Story!]**

* * *

The Author might sound a little racist for saying this, but it is her accusation that the writers posting in a foreign language are taking liberties. Who really is going to call them out if they write garbage? Pues, esta muchacha puede, putos. Y ella va a romper sus anos por batiendolos con un strap-on.

**Teardrops on my guitar by Plati368. **

Why in the world is the title in English, but everything else is in Spanish? The Author appreciates a little good spanglish session now and again, but it seems a little silly to not consistently write in one language. To avoid racist remarks, the Reader should take this criticism with a grain of salt, as an English title may be necessary for some reason or another. The summary:

[Yellow está enamorada de Red, pero el la quiere como su mejor amiga, de todos modos él es la razón por las lágrimas en su guitarra]

Basically, Yellow is in love with Red, but the guy friend-zoned her petty {255R 255G 0B} ass. Apparently this is so terrible that it forces her to cry directly on her guitar. Because, as one knows, moving away from the guitar to cry is so _ha-aa-rd! _To begin this story, the Reader is greeted by an author's note. All good stories start with one of these, right? No. Not really.

[Bien primero esta es la primera vez que hago un songfic así que no me maten, pero si tienen recomendaciones para mí las aceptare con mucho gusto :D, por cierto está en Yellow POV´s]

Told you so! See how the Writer is obviously making a songfic which is against the rules?! And when the fan fiction police come to the Writer's home and knock down the door, its eighteen siblings and cousins will scramble away. The FF police will ask "didn't you read the guidelines and agree to them? How dare [the Writer] break our sacred laws?" And it'll say:

_Ay ay ay, muchachos. No hablo ingles!_

So then the Writer gets away with it. Okay, the previous comments were borderline racist.

Hehe. _Border_line.

[Y ahí estaba yo, con él, el chico que me había gustado desde hace años, pero nunca tuve el valor de decírselo y ahora me arrepiento]

This may seem super interesting because it is in a language that most Readers can't understand, but it isn't. Basically, it is the same old sob fest. It resembles the pseudo-intellectual and/or overly emotional prose that infests most shipping stories- especially _songfics._ Eugh. Songfics could essentially be renamed _plagiarismfics _ because, most of the time, it is a copied song surrounded by hilariously bad writing. There is a reason the guidelines banned them.

But there is a major concession to be had, here. And this concession is that most fan fiction written in Spanish is actually more cohesive and grammatically correct than its English counterpart. This can be attributed to the fact that English is Germanic, as well as the fact that the language has been raped 9,001 times by all the colloquials floating about.

Fuck. Sorry Reader: this review is now going to digress in an incredibly brief, terribly uninformed description of how the English language flows.

* * *

In poetry, there are three different ways one can try to provide a flowing structure to their piece: a set amount of syllables per line, a pattern/chart of stressed and unstressed syllables, and patterns created based on the length of each syllable (they have names, but things are easier this way-have faith)

The set amount of syllables is not something that fits very well with most English poetry. Although one very pertinent, mainstream example is readily available: the haikou. The haikou is a syllabic piece because it uses a five-seven-five format; stress and syllable length do not factor in to the rigid structure. This format, as said, does not compute with the English language very well because the average reader will attempt to find a way to stress parts of a syllabic poem- even so it was made with no stresses in mind.

What is a stress? A shit term for a stressed syllable. Like heroes, stressed syllables are not born they are made (the real quote may be the other way around, who knows). What this means is that a syllable is only stressed in conjunction to another syllable, because one has more _oomph_ than the other. Cat. That's just a syllable. Cat few. 'Cat' is now the stressed syllable because it is more powerful than 'few'. This is an example of a trochee, or stressed plus unstressed.

An iamb is usually more common. Few cat. The Read can see this in Shakespear and nearly every Romantic poem of the time period? Why? Because before the Romantic era, medieval/ preceding poems were syllabic. So, technically, there is a place for such a poetic form- and it is known to be the classical method of poetry, the Author presumes. That may be a fact to check, but it makes sense, does it not?

Some other interesting meter (branching name for iambs, trochess, and their homies):

Pyrrhic- unstressed and unstressed. Few mew. No such thing as the perfect pyrrhic in the language, but it is possible to get very close.  
Anapest- unstressed, unstressed, stressed. Few mew cat. When the unstressed syllable comes before the stressed one, this is called rising meter. It denotes excitement and fun.  
Spondee- stressed and stressed. Cat Fat. Like pyrrhic, but opposite.  
Dactyle- stressed, unstressed, unstressed. Cat few mew. Lowering meter. Depressed and dull (but not always).

Oh, right; then there is length. The length is simple: 'rock' takes an equal amount of time to say compared to 'cock', but is shorter than 'spock', because 'spock' has that 's'. Most of the time, it is integrated with the stresses format. The Author admits it is sort of an area she lacks knowledge of.

* * *

Where the fuck was this review at? Oh right- sheer surprise and disappointment:

[_Red looks at me]_

Slightly obnoxious spanglish, but it proves my point: the song doesn't work in Spanish because the meter is ruined. Even someone as simple as the Writer has figured this out, and thus kept the song in English. _Teardrops on my Guitar _is a song by Taylor Swift, by the way. Because when one thinks of integrity, they can't help but think of Taylor Swift. Also, in the song, the guy's name is Drew. But that'd be too easy for this pro songfic Writer. Or else it actually matters what the emotionless, bland faces behind its story are. From now on, the Author will avoid blabbering about the song. It is typically pokemon Mad Libs, so just open up the lyrics and imagine someone pissing all over our remaining sources of talent.

[Pero es que cada vez que me mira no puedo evitar sentir esa sensación mágica de mariposas en el estomago]

Butterflies in the stomach? How cliche. For those who can't follow: this is turning out to be fairly bland writing. Here is a quick translation, so that the Reader may cry with the Author.

_But each time he looks at me I cannot avoid that magical feeling of butterflies in my stomach._

Not fantastic. But still kicking the living shit out of most English fan fic writers. They need to get their shit together (evidence: chapters one through four of this story)! Also, how in the world is butterflies in the stomach 'magical'? One would think a better term for having insects fluttering around in your organs would be 'scary ass shit'.

Yellow and Red's incredibly emotion(less)al conversation is repeatedly mugged by Taylor Swift. The Writer fails at copy and pasting, as seen here:

[_He´s the reason for the teardrops in my guitar]_

_In_ the guitar? Did Red shove Yellow's head inside the guitar and berate her until she started crying? Did it give her that magical sensation of butterflies in her stomach? The entire idea sounds incredibly scary... and kinky. Technically if it has a hole it can be sexual... and the Author bets that this is how most youtube artists create their indie music/ covers when all the Author wants to do is find some _Marshall fucking Tucker._ Digressing.

[Red camina a mi lado, ¿notará que me falta el aliento? después de todo él es la razón de todo esto...]

Or maybe the reason Yellow is short of breath is because of all the crying she is doing into her guitar. Yadda yadda yadda...

[Él es la razón por las lágrimas en mi guitarra, es el único que puede romper mi corazón y es la canción en el carro que siempre canto y no se por qué]

Holy crap! According to my translation, Yellow is pregnant to Red's child. But the guy didn't want to admit his love in his best friend so he ran the baby over with a car-

Nah, the Author is just fucking around. More boring emotional dullness-

two hyphens in a row, but the Author has to admit something she just realized. This will be put in bold, as a message to the English speakers out there:

**Yo, all the Writers out there need to get their fucking act together. While this piece is emotionally clogged, generally pointless, and quite boring to read... it does everything that it needs to much better than about eighty percent of English stories (this statistic is pulled from the Author's ass, but it may be close, just due to intense experience). Author's recommendation: translate this into English and take some tips from it. There are still typos, but at least it isn't too ilogical- other than shoving heads into guitars. This review was sorely lacking humor, but sometimes one has to carry a message. **

**Five out of ten. Leave the fucking Author alone. **

**[END]**

**Five out of ten. **


End file.
